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<title>loving you is like holding smoke by Jade_Masquerade</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26870596">loving you is like holding smoke</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade_Masquerade/pseuds/Jade_Masquerade'>Jade_Masquerade</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Magic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:14:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>834</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26870596</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade_Masquerade/pseuds/Jade_Masquerade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As Sansa focused in turn on the beating of Jon’s heart and the hitch of his breath, she wondered if perhaps a little of the magic that ran through his veins and bound him to the icy Wall that towered outside the door would seep into her, if it could smooth over scars that could not be seen, if it could heal her all the ways she was lonely and broken inside.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jon Snow/Sansa Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Jonsa Autumn Drabbles 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>loving you is like holding smoke</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the Jonsa Autumn Drabbles Day 3 Prompt: Magic</p>
<p>Title from "Smoke" by Tender</p>
<p>This is a bit of a fic I've had the idea to write for awhile where Jon is brought back by magic that also bound him to the Wall and how Sansa navigates a relationship with him in light of this restriction</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>With each passing day summer grew more distant and winter drew nearer, but within the confines of these chambers at Castle Black, with the fire roaring in the grate and Jon’s body pressed up against hers, Sansa never would have known it. She could think of nothing more opposite than that frozen Wall outside, the furs at her back warming her and heat slinking through her.  	</p>
<p>Soon winter’s full brunt would be upon them, making the roads impassable and putting Jon out of her reach. He would spend winter here, in the place where he once served as Lord Commander, and beyond the Wall, where dead men walked, and where the magic of the children of the forest lingered, the magic that had both at once breathed air back into his lungs and shackled him here. Anything south laid beyond his limits, the places where the First Men had banished nearly every trace of the children and their powers, pushing out the beings and chopping down their weirwood trees.  </p>
<p>Sansa had asked him what it felt like once, to be drawn away from the sources that sustained him now, and he told her of how his blood grew hot from within, his heart thrumming and skin searing, as though the flames that had brought him back to life threatened to consume him again, and she wondered how that was so different from now, with the way he seemed to burn beneath her.   </p>
<p>She wondered, too, what would happen if he strayed away from the Wall, wandered out of its shadow in the wrong direction, if those cuts her fingers skimmed over would open and start to gush again as they had once when his skin was sliced open by cold steel and only the mercy of a fire god had saved him. If it was that god or others she cried out for now, she didn’t know, her hands sliding across the scars, down the ridges of his abdomen, trailing lower until she reached where they joined.  </p>
<p>It didn’t matter, Sansa knew. Why would she want to believe in any god that would exact this price, of a life imprisoned at the edge of the world, of an eternal task both tedious and thankless? </p>
<p>Jon accepted the burden without complaint, of course. It was so like him to sacrifice himself for the many, her once brother who had joined the Night’s Watch without a hesitation of what it meant for him, and who should have been rightfully released from his vows by death, but whose life now instead defended the good of the kingdom and the realms of men. </p>
<p>Sansa dreamed of the day there would be nothing left to fear, when this spell would be broken, when Jon would be freed, when he could come home to Winterfell. She knew it was petty, but she could not help but think of how she had sacrificed too, for she could only see him when time and duty permitted, and when the elements cooperated in her favor. She supposed it was easy to understand why Jon had embraced his fate when she thought of how she had so willingly taken on the crown of hers and the responsibilities that came along with it. </p>
<p>For the moment, though, Sansa pushed those worries out of mind, making herself feel rather than think. She focused in turn on the beating of Jon’s heart, the blood that flowed south, his breath that hitched as she sank down on his length again, all of that contingent on the magic woven into the icy Wall that towered outside the door. As she held Jon closer, took him deeper, she wondered if perhaps a little of the magic that ran through his veins would seep into her, if it could smooth over scars that could not be seen, if it could heal her all the ways she was lonely and broken inside. </p>
<p>It was a fine hope, if not a vain one, but she had never been one to be so selfless as Jon. And since no one would ever know what either of them had given, Sansa figured she might as well find what pleasure she could, and Jon freely gave it. She knew after this it would not be long before he was between her legs again, his tongue stroking over the sensitive spot there, and then when they were finished, exhausted at last, he would pull her into his arms, sharing his warmth with her against the rising winds and the first flurries of coming snow. While the fire burned down to embers in the grate and they drifted off to sleep, she would lock the memory of how it felt to be cherished, to be loved, away for the nights of cold and darkness that were to come. </p>
<p>But for now she would take this—Jon’s hands on her hips, his kisses on her neck, her name on his lips—whatever gods so cruel were willing to give.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I know this is super angsty, but the full version would have a happy ending, I swear!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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